


Unexpected

by Kerriathechosen1



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Needs A Hug, Family Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-12 17:08:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21479872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerriathechosen1/pseuds/Kerriathechosen1
Summary: Virgil is gone, and all of the light sides are hurting. But a family comes together in a time of need. It may be impossible to move on completely after losing one you love, but they can survive. They have to. Somehow.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders
Comments: 6
Kudos: 30





	Unexpected

Enveloping, overflowing -- like a tidal wave, my emotions flooded through me before I even knew I was feeling them, and a sob tore out of my throat as my arms bound Patton to my chest. Those terrible choking sounds, I just couldn’t stop them -- but there was some small part of me that felt more and more satisfied as the ugly salted waters trickled down my cheeks in waves. I whimpered, trying to push it all down, but it was no use -- nor did I really want to stop.

Patton squeezed me back gently but firmly, holding me close but giving me enough room to pull away if I wanted. He rubbed my back in small little circles as I dug my face into his shoulder, the aching in my soul crying out for attention. It was too much. All I could do was drown in my own sorrow, vaguely registering drops of water on my shoulder as Patton’s shoulders shook with the weight of both his crushing despair and mine.

Logan stood a few feet behind Patton, his face torn between a mourning guilt and a brave mask of steel. He looked back toward the door, biting his lip hard enough to spout out specks of blood. I lifted my head off Patton’s shoulder for a brief moment and reached out a hand toward him, and that was all it took for the mask to shatter like irreparable shards of glass. He fell forward with nearly pillar-straight legs, almost dropping to the floor before his legs bent at the last second and held him up on a shaky foundation. I was surprised he was able to reach us before toppling over with the weight of the world. Patton pulled back to touch Logan’s elbow, gently guiding him around his right side to pull him between the two of us. Logan’s head fell, his hair falling into his eyes to cover the tears he’d tried to ignore. I wrapped one arm around his shoulder and one around Patton’s, as Patton wrapped his around Logan’s, using the hand to gently touch Logan’s right cheek and force him to look up. Logan’s eyes were full of absolute anguish beyond words -- not even I, the creative side, could come up with a term to describe the suffering evident in his soul -- and I leaned into him in what I hoped was a comforting touch.

Patton’s hand continued to stroke Logan’s cheek, his face as stern as a tear-stricken man could make it, as his mouth emphasized, “It’s _not _your fault.” Logan’s face scrunched up in pain, and he tried to look down, but Patton forced him to look back up. “It’s _**not** _your _fault_, Logan, none of us could’ve seen it coming, so stop _guilting _yourself, kiddo.”

Logan choked back a sob and I nuzzled against his neck as he hung his head and began to shake. My tears hadn’t stopped, and my breaths were still hitched, but at least now I felt I wasn’t alone in this agony, like I could let myself be supported and support the other sides equally.

If only we’d supported _him_ when he needed us most.

* * *

Late that night -- well, early the next morning -- whatever one might consider 1:00 a.m. -- I shuffled down the hall with eyelids as heavy as my heart, unable to sleep a wink. Memories of _**him** _had plagued my thoughts, and I couldn’t relax knowing I’d been unable to save the one I loved most. I lost myself in thoughts of his low voice, his shy smile, his alluring scent -- all those things I’d never get to hear, to see, to sense again. The finality of his absence corrupted the once-pleasant home we spent our lives in. It wasn’t his fault, but nonetheless, his loss was poisoning every ounce of happiness we used to find in Thomas’s mind. It was nearly enough to wish I’d joined him.

I broke away from my depressing thoughts at the sound of another conscious side up ahead. Hearing sniffles coming from the living room, I peeked down from the top of the stairs.

Patton was sitting alone on the couch, a picture frame sitting atop his thighs as he used his shirt to stifle his cries. It was a photo of our family -- Thomas was in the center, as usual, grinning widely for the camera. I stood to his right at an angle with my hands on my hips, standing tall and proud, while Patton stood on the other side, mirroring my stance with a cheerful smile. Logan stood slightly behind him and Thomas, forcing a very faint smile, and… **_he_**… V-... _**Virgil**… _stood behind me and Thomas, looking slightly more uncomfortable, with an equally forced smile that caused my soul to shatter. I’d almost broken the picture when I first saw it after the incident, unable to stand the resentment and hurt that came from every mentioning of the one I loved so dearly. But Patton had cried out, and Logan calmly reminded me that it wouldn’t change anything, that Virgil was gone no matter what I broke in my rage.

Like I needed a reminder. It was the cruelest fact, that I couldn’t ignore no matter how long I submerged myself in the mindscape.

Patton’s shoulders were clearly vibrating, even in the darkness. He held the photo close to his chest, repeating to himself, “Oh, my dark strange son… My dark strange son…” I couldn’t see his face, but I knew he hadn’t run out of tears just yet.

I couldn’t bring myself to face him. I turned around and went back to my room.

* * *

Logan is the logical side. One would think that Patton, being Thomas’s sense of morality, would suffer from the more emotional response, and typically that was the case. But Logan felt many things -- frustration, most often, or annoyance, along with pride and a bit of stubbornness. Often it was easy to forget his fix-it nature, the part of him that longed to be of help and service to others, even if it went unnoticed. He enjoyed his ability to see things that others miss, and use these details to solve their problems. In a way, he enjoyed playing the part of hero, like myself.

Virgil’s death hit him like an asteroid hitting the earth. Something had happened, something he should have been able to see, put the pieces together, realize there was an issue that desperately needed to be solved, before it was too late. Virgil’s actions, looking back, always seemed to have a purpose, and we all thought we were foolish not to see that, Logan especially.

He threw himself into work, 24/7, sitting at his desk with piles of papers and books scattered all around him as he worked with the feverish intensity of a man on his last legs of life. His face screamed panic and self-loathing and frustration and repression, and it wasn’t long before he collapsed in a mental breakdown and Patton had to coax him into the living room for endless cuddles.

* * *

Disney movie nights became a common trend for the next couple of days. Patton made us all three great meals a day, and we ate them -- even though none of us were hungry -- not wanting to disrespect his efforts. He seemed to understand this, by his tired smile and dulled eyes -- eyes that should never coincide with one as lively as Patton. And he also never seemed to touch any of the food he made, instead pressuring the two of us to eat up, pleading with every bit of misery he had left to show. Logan had less of an appetite than me, but even he managed to get something in by the end of each meal.

Still, it reminded me of him, how he would always look so tired at meals, how he would try not to cast too much attention to himself, how he would eat the bare minimum to satisfy Patton and then leave before anyone knew he was gone. I remembered how I’d complain and mock him when he left, hoping my words would anger him into staying longer -- but to no avail. Patton would look at me disapprovingly, and Logan would give me a glare at most, or focus on his reading instead, and I’d just shrug and keep up the careless act.

Acting was Thomas’s specialty, and I was a fool to think the only one putting it to use was me.

* * *

One day, Logan and I were maintaining a conversation and walking through the house when we found Patton sobbing uncontrollably in the laundry room. Logan immediately dropped beside the moral side and asked him what the problem was, but Patton didn’t respond, merely holding up a black and purple jacket he’d found lying behind the washing machine.

I turned around and left.

* * *

** _“What’s up, Princey?”_ **

I wanted to cry. Part of me knew it was just a dream, it wasn’t real, and yet I saw his cute little side-smirk and threw myself into his arms, feeling his hold just like I always imagined it, so very fake, but it was all I had. My arms tightened around him, trying to keep him there, trying to pretend he wasn’t fading into dust in my hold, trying to prevent him from slipping through my fingers a second time.

** _“Here, I’ll rid you of your Emo Nightmare.”_ **

“No!” I cried, but it was too late. Pretty soon, Virgil had dissipated, leaving behind only his purple Christmas sweater for me to sob into -- until the dream suddenly ended and I shot awake, the sweater gone but my blanket pulled tightly over my chest.

* * *

“I miss you, My Chemically Imbalanced Romance.”

I gazed up into the twinkling midnight skies. My words felt so empty, so insignificant -- nothing could have expressed the loneliness I constantly felt, day in and day out. I wondered if some sort of heaven existed for us -- if there even was something beyond death, from which Virgil could be looking down at me, witnessing the woes he’d put me, us, through. I wondered if he knew the devastation he had brought unto our family, if he knew how much we wanted to go join him -- and would -- if not for the equal love we had for Thomas.

“I love you, Hot Topic… Virgil…” I felt the quivering begin to take place in my bones, and wished that he could be here with me, to hold me up, so I didn’t have to anymore.

“I love you,” I whispered, softly.

A star twinkled in the sky -- and, for a moment, I thought maybe he’d said he loved me too.

**Author's Note:**

> {This chapter was sort of an unplanned rant piece after one of my fellow classmates committed suicide almost two months ago. I left much of the what/when/where/why/how open for interpretation, mainly because there's so much that you'll never get to know when a person is gone.
> 
> I was intending on writing a Prinxiety Sanders Sides fanfic to begin with, but it was going to be much more positive than this piece. I plan on writing a lot more Sanders Sides stories in the future, so if you have any requests, let me know. I love all the Sanders Sides characters with all my heart, and would love to explore more with the rest of them, while we wait patiently for Thomas's next upload.
> 
> Thanks for reading.}
> 
> https://www.quotev.com/story/12286900/Sanders-Sides-Stories-One-Shots/9
> 
> [1/14/20 News for Sanders Sides fans: I'm working on a massive four-book college AU! Would you like to create original characters to make minor or major appearances? Would you just like a name to be featured as an easter egg? Or do you have any ideas you'd like me to slip in? Leave me a comment or go to my profile. Follow this link for more information, and shoot me a message on Quotev! If you don't have a Quotev account, you can contact me through the comments here or by emailing Zukithechosenone@gmail.com.]


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